The Depths of Dependency
by AMoistDigestive
Summary: In 2178, a privately-funded research team find themselves stranded on a frontier world, faced with growing casualties, dwindling resources and the threat of constant internal sabotage. Someone, or something, wants the entire expedition to fail, and cardiothoracic surgeon Aptia Octidavus must rise to the occasion if she has any hope of saving not only herself, but the entire team.


The Depths of Dependency

Preview

Written by AMoistDigestive

 **ONE**

"Three months?!" An unpleasant blend of bewilderment and contempt washed over the asari's features, her wrinkled, chutney eyes wide and mouth dramatically agape. "You're postponing my operation for _three months?!_ "

"I'm not postponing it, Miss L'seni." Aptia's response was laced with barely concealed frustration over her patient's behaviour. "It was always going to be late September, and you have been informed of that several times now." Hoping to highlight the illogical argument, the turian doctor promptly rotated her terminal screen to display the sent extranet mail. "See? September 27th."

"But why can't you see me next week?" L'seni choked, tugging nervously at the silver bead necklace around her neck. "What if my heart gives out before you come back? I'll be dead! I can't die, I haven't got a will!" Aptia gave a sharp exhale through her teeth, steepling tense fingers.

"Your myocardium isn't inflamed anymore," she sighed. "You said it yourself that you've regained weight and the pressure in your sternum has lessened. I assure you that you're going to be just fine until I get back, and if you really are worried, you can always come in and see the duty docto-"

"I want to be referred to a specialist," L'sari abruptly cut in, crossing her arms with a scowl.

"I a _m_ the specialist. You'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some other patients to see before 3. Please watch the door on your way out." A few rapid blinks and a shocked expression of disbelief later, the asari patient had left the consultation office, and Aptia was finally alone once more. Almost immediately, she fell forward, burying her face in her palms with a groan.

"Six years for that degree," she muttered agitatedly, "but _nooo_ ,accountants and cashiers obviously know medicine better than me. What is it about a surgery that makes 'em think it can be treated like a damn circus? Did somebody slap a clown nose on me when I wasn't looking?" She wearily raised her head, dragging her clawed fingertips down her face, and took a glance towards the desk mirror. Looking back at her was the visage of a white-plated turian, 37 years of age, attired in a creased white coat and sporting a frayed, abused lanyard. Her I.D. card was suspended at the end – "Dr. Aptia Octidavus, Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Dunae Ridge Hospital". Leaning back in her seat, she ran a finger carefully along the patterns of crimson red markings adorning her face, letting it rest upon a noticeably faded spot on her cheek. She pouted. That'd need to be repainted soon.

 _Knock, knock._

Aptia glanced up. She took a moment to hastily adjust her collar and clear her throat - she had to maintain some degree of professionalism around the others, at least – before calling her visitor in. As the metallic doors slid open, she was met with the familiar face of her supervisor; Dr. Proctis Aarotan, the head of surgery at Dunae Ridge. Like most of the staff and patients here, he was also a turian, boasting sharp emerald eyes and striking pale blue plates, decorated with well-kept cream markings. Among turians, the markings were signs of their birthplace, and his indicated that he was local to Colony Dunae. Though he had known Aptia for a long time, she found it odd that he would take time out of his rounds to see her.

"Aptia," Proctis began with a cheerful grin. "You're looking well." He paused. "Well, for _you,_ anyway." His voice was unusually croaky for a turian, as if there was something constantly caught in the back of his throat. It could be off-putting for strangers, but most of the staff came to find it endearing when combined with his happy-go-lucky demeanour. Aptia found it depressing.

"That supposed to be encouraging, Proctis?" she remarked flatly, placing her chin in one palm to her side. "I just had Miss L'seni in." Proctis' expression immediately shifted to one of sympathetic concern.

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Fun woman. She's probably going to come in to see the duty doctor while I'm gone, so just be ready for that."

"Mhm. Actually, about that…" He stepped further into the room, allowing the door to close behind him, and took a seat across from her. "We've got your paperwork almost done, but we need some more details from you." Aptia scowled.

"I filled in everything."

"Yes, you did, and you did a stellar job." He leaned forward with a smile, giving her a condescending pat on the hand. "Buuuuut, I'm afraid Atusius has asked to know exactly what company you're going with."

"Does that matter?" Aptia scoffed. "It's a research expedition. That's all she needs to know to authorise the time off. She just doesn't want me gone during half of winter because it's gonna be busy."

"Maybe, but to be fair, you are our only registered cardiologist. We would have to get someone else in. Don't get me wrong, though – I think it's a fantastic opportunity for you." Proctis stood up and made his way around the desk to the window, taking in the view of the dusty, rocky, sun-kissed valley of Colony Dunae. "You need a change of scenery for a bit. You've been getting grumpier than normal." Aptia mentally prepared herself to respond to a statement of "no offence", but it never came. She frowned and considered her response carefully.

"I just want to widen my resumé a bit," Aptia spoke at last, standing up herself and joining her supervisor at the window. Outside, the odd shuttle drifted gracefully over the terrain, ferrying folks to and from the busy, trade-heavy centre out to this small, secluded surgery on the outskirts. "Not a whole lot of room to branch out here."

"Nor to meet new people," Proctis muttered, glancing sideways towards her in a knowing fashion. "Some people like spending their careers seeing and treating the same folks over and over again. I know I like that, as does Atusius. But you?" He locked eyes with her. "You get antsy in an environment like that. I don't think it's for you."

"You think I'm better working with new people often?"

"Sort of. I think it could be good for your professional growth – and personal, too. But you're not going on any expedition without these details I came for today!" Proctis returned to his seat, promptly producing a datapad from his belt. "So, fire away. Company and insurance group." With a heavy sigh, Aptia skulked back over to her own seat, but leant on it rather than seating herself.

"Aethorian Frontiers, and Stelholtd," she answered. Proctis scoffed.

"You've been ripped off. My sister could get you a discount."

"Funnily enough," Aptia grumbled impatiently, "it's a bit late for a policy switch. Anything else?"

"Nah." The turian man, having been tapping away at the holographic keyboard, briskly finished up and turned off his datapad. "All wrapped up. You'd better get on with your next patient."

"He's running late," she chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Again. He was supposed to be before Miss L'seni." Proctis gave an affirming grunt, rubbing his rough mandible plating between a thumb and forefinger.

"Just one other thing. Frontier world, right?" he asked. Aptia nodded. "Yeah. Can be unsafe sometimes, so take care of yourself. A hospital bed isn't a good place for you, either, I think."

"I'll do that. Don't let the place fall apart while I'm gone."

"Can't promise that," he laughed with a wink, making his way out of the room. As Aptia was left to her own devices once more, she considered just what sort of challenges she would be facing on her trip. A three-month science expedition to an uncharted world to gather – well, she hadn't quite read that bit of the brief as studiously as anything that actually concerned her. She was to be the chief medical officer and surgeon. Her role would be caring for the team and giving health check-ups more than anything, but she hoped working with a private group outside the healthcare industry would open some more interesting doors for her career down the line.

Of course, it would mean being very… 'disconnected' for a while. There were no established extranet satellites out on the far frontier, so that meant she'd been going radio silent on her family and friends for a while. That said, she'd already spoken to them about it, and as much as her mother insisted she was going to miss her little girl, Aptia was fairly certain she would survive three months. Her younger brother didn't even know, but that was fine. He had a lot of worry about with boot camp coming up, and they hadn't seen each other in almost a year, anyway. As for friends, they didn't seem terribly fussed by the idea of Aptia vanishing from their lives for a few months – a prospect she found more than a little offensive. 'Oh, nice. Take some photos' or 'That's pretty cool' were about the extent of the responses she received, and it was rather… unflattering. Sad, even.

Still, this whole experience was going to get her out and meeting new people, so maybe she could make some _new_ friends. Maybe even a bit of professional networking, time permitting! As she thought about the expedition more and more, Aptia found herself steadily growing more excited about the benefits it could bring her. She was nowhere near as enthusiastic about the romanticism of exploring mysterious new worlds, but the idea of something fresh and new to challenge her skills and open new doors for her was a thrilling one. For the first time that day, Aptia smiled, sitting down and allowing herself a moment to relax. This had the potential to be a fantastic three months.

 _Knock-knock. Knock-knock._

 _…_

 _Knock._

The smile dropped off her face. Of course, she had to get this last week of work over with first…


End file.
